


The Eighty-sixth Sentinel Tidbits File by Many and Varied

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Series: The Senad Sentinel Tidbits Files by Many and Varied [86]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Senslash Fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 02:40:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist





	The Eighty-sixth Sentinel Tidbits File by Many and Varied

## The Eighty-sixth Sentinel Tidbits File

by Many and Varied

Author's disclaimer: The characters aren't mine, these tidbits aren't mine. Honestly, I'm not responsible for any of it!  


* * *

Rating: the whole range  
Pairings: J/B (mostly!) 

* * *

Tidbit #1 

As soon as the nurse left, he pulled on his trousers rebelliously, only to follow up this action by perching back on the exam table. Old service-bred habits of procedural obedience held him there for a few minutes, and then, to hell with this, he pulled his drape off and his shirt on. As he began buttoning up, a quick slight figure entered the room and shut the door behind itself. 

Jim turned and watched the entrance, eyes assessing by instinct. His measurement lasted a fraction longer than usual; it took an extra moment to process and determine the gender of the small person in front of him. A flash of light on glasses, common white doctor's coat like an outsized costume hiding the body beneath (tatty jeans and sneakers), a bound sweep of hair that briefly signaled femininity, and then a birdlike turn of neck to reveal sideburns; conclusion, a man. More or less. 

"Detective Ellison. I'm Doctor McKay." The man closed the door, cocked his head and presented an open, oddly intrigued face, like a man seeing a live giraffe for the first time and not quite sure what to think. 

"Your name tag says 'McCoy'," Jim observed without inflection. McKay/McCoy craned to stare down at his name tag for a noticeable beat of time before raising his head and smiling like sunlight to reply. "Um... yeah. But the correct Gaelic pronunciation of my family name is 'McKay'." 

Jim raised his brows but let this go without comment. With the other's arrival, tension was gripping at him afresh, but it would not do to let it show. Fears were to be locked down. He avoided looking at the chart in the other man's hands, dropping his sight and continuing to button his shirt. "Do you have the results?" 

"Of. . . ?" 

Jim looked up, flicking a glance at the other man. "The tests," he said succinctly, laying a faint dry emphasis on the second word. 

Something in the man's face seemed to settle into sharper focus and his gaze fixed Jim. "Forget the tests. You don't need medicine--you need information." 

It sounded like the stock phrase of a huckster about to hand over a pamphlet on colonic irrigation or metamagical analysis and Jim's suspicious instincts kicked in. He evaded the hook with snappish bewilderment. "Wha--what are you--an intern?" He flipped his collar into place and made a dismissive, impatient gesture that betrayed four hours' worth of rising nerves. "Go--go get the doctor, will you, please?" 

"Now just wait a second--hear me out, here." 

Jim found himself maneuvered into turning as the other man shifted around him and moved closer in a manner that breathed of con and showmanship. 

"Loud noises that shouldn't be loud," the man said intensely. "Smelling things that no one else can smell--weird visuals--taste buds off the map, right?" 

Jim eyed him; the gild of light that backlit the other man's form was on the edge of being distracting. His tension refused to ebb. "That's all in my chart." 

"Yeah, but I bet I can add one more thing--a hyperactive tactile response--?" 

"A what?" 

The man searched for words. "A--uh--extrasensitive touchy-feely lately." 

"Man, that's none of your business--and who the hell are you anyway?" Anger boiled up along stressed nerves and Jim stepped forward as he spoke, unconsciously drawing on interrogation tactics. Unfortunately, the man seemed not at all intimidated, despite being outclassed by several inches and at least thirty pounds. 

"Me--I'm no one--but this man--he is--" 

Bemused, Jim blinked and automatically took the business card being handed him. Had it really come from the man's sleeve as it appeared to? 

The man was continuing with urgent emphasis. "--he is the only man who can truly help you. You're too far ahead of the curve for any of this techno-trash. You're a cop. See the man." 

Having delivered himself of this command, McKay a.k.a. McCoy zipped off with cocky flourish, trailing the air of one who'd just performed a well-rehearsed act and was clearing the stage for the next performer. And following on the heels of his exit, as if on cue, another man entered the exam room. 

Jim, still off-guard, stared at the newcomer, who was noticeably older and more authoritative than his vanishing precursor, with silvery hair and a bearing that emphatically proclaimed its owner's medical pedigree. 

"Ah, good afternoon, Detective Ellison," the man said briskly. "I've scheduled some additional tests, but based on the results we have so far, there doesn't seem to be any medical foundation for your complaints." 

Jim, trying to mentally shake off the visitation he'd just had, found his eyes drawn to an area of blankness on the other man's white coat. "You lost your name tag." 

The man made note of this, smiled. "Oh, so I did. I'm Doctor McCoy." 

Jim's jaw twitched dryly. "The real McCoy, I presume." 

"Sorry?" 

"Nothing," Jim said curtly. His gaze slid one more time across the business card he still held before he put it in his pocket. Unable to work up quite the same trepidation twice, he squared off with McCoy and asked flatly, "What's your diagnosis then, Doc?" 

"Well, I don't have one as yet," McCoy said, frowning at the chart he held and flipping through its pages. "The symptoms you describe are uncommon--these 'spells' you describe are suggestive of what are known as petit mal seizures, but you say you have no history of this complaint. Is that correct?" 

"Yeah--what--" 

"You've never been diagnosed with epilepsy? Attention deficit disorder, or ADHD? Any kind of learning disorder?" 

Jim shook his head no to the first two questions; to the last he said briefly, "Dyslexia." 

"Mmm." 

"Is that. . .important?" Jim asked haltingly. 

"No." McCoy, flipping a page and intent on his reading, didn't look up at Jim. "Not relevant to this, anyway." He went on, speaking as if to himself. "An increased intake in alcohol consumption. . .but at levels unlikely to produce the symptoms you've described. No drug use, prescription or otherwise. No exposure to any toxins." Shuffle of papers. "No recent head injury or trauma?" He glanced up to confirm this. "No. Good. Well. . .these seizures, in conjunction with the sensory hallucinations and distortion you report having, would tend to suggest a few possibilities, but neither your EEG nor your CAT scan showed anything out of the ordinary. No epileptiform patterns in the first, no visible signs of lesion or tumor in the second." 

"Tumor," Jim repeated in a stunned, rough voice. 

"Well, I don't mean to alarm you, Detective. On the contrary. As I stated from the outset, we've not found any medical basis for your complaints. But I would like to admit as soon as it's convenient, for a twenty-four hour EEG, which might catch any seizure activity that the first test missed." 

"No. . .no," Jim said automatically, shaking his head and looking away to one side. His throat grated out the words. "Look. . . ." He took a hitching breath and slewed his grim attention back to McCoy, who was regarding him with aggravatingly professional calm. "That--that--person who was here before you--did you know him?" 

McCoy frowned. "No, why?" 

Jim opened his mouth slightly, words forming. Because he seemed damned familiar with my chart and very eager to persuade me the hell away from here and out of your medical clutches. The words subsided and died before he could voice them. 

"I just. . . ." He tightened up even as he discovered himself unable to remain still any longer. "I have to go. Thank you, Doctor." 

"Detective, wait. Please." McCoy caught him as he began to brush past, touching his arm. He commanded Jim's reluctant gaze. "I understand your concerns--" 

"No, I don't think you do." 

"But you can't just will away whatever's bothering you," McCoy barreled on firmly, his voice threaded with unstinting friendliness. "Further tests are the only way we're going to identify the cause behind the manifestations. And even if, hypothetically, the physiological basis for your condition were to remain undetermined, there's still the matter of how the episodes interfere with your functioning. There are effective anti-seizure medications such as Dilantin--" 

Jim's chin lifted. "Thanks," he said with the final remnants of his politeness. He left. 

(anna) 

* * *

Tidbit #2 

"Oh, for pete's sake," exclaimed the anthropologist as he logged out and turned off his laptop. 

The sound of frustration in his mate's voice caused Jim to look up from reading his paper where he sat on the couch. "What's wrong Chief?" 

"Sometimes the bozos running the tv networks really tick me off." Blair remarked, as he joined Jim on the couch. Blair proceeded to push Jim's paper aside and replace it with himself. 

Jim knew this might either be the beginning of a long and winding commentary of television and society, or a long and worthy session of lovemaking. Holding a worked up Blair could be a lot fun, holding a Blair on a rant was something else. He knew how he wanted it to work out. 

"Okay, Chief, let's hear it." 

"Well, you know how that stupid network took off the show we like?" 

"Yeah, and?" 

"Well, they are replacing it with that wrestling stuff, you know the 'not a sport but entertainment' program!" he exclaimed. 

"So they are taking off quality programming we like and replacing it with some of the less credible shows you might find on cable stations?" Jim replied. 

Blair looked up into his Sentinel blue eyes. He reached out and let his hand roam up and down the length of Jim's forearm and shoulder. "Exactly, why would they do that?" 

The sentinel looked down into Blair's face. He shifted a bit, getting into a better position to hold Blair while they talked. Blair's soft touches having a decidedly warming effect. 

"Well, my guess would be they want ratings more than quality, and are willing to ignore what some viewers might feel are standards for broadcast programming. They might not see it as compromising their position as a broadcast network and are not worried about viewers' respect," Jim replied while reaching up to brush his hand against Blair's cheek. 

Blair seemed to draw a little closer, his hand moving up Jim's shoulder and around his neck. "I guess so, but it is still irritating, we lose our show and they lose the industry's respect. You should have heard what their CEO did, just plain embarrassing. He closes the announcement by being surrounded by..." The rest of what he was saying was lost as Jim's lips slowly pressed against his. After a few moments, they separated, needing air. 

"What was I saying?" questioned the younger man. 

"You were talking about losing some quality programming on television, and I was..." the Sentinel started to reply, then was interrupted in mid sentence. 

"Right, right and so I think..." Blair started, beginning to pick up the threads of the conversation. Jim quickly placed his fingers on Blair's lips to quiet him. 

Blair looked at Jim with a question in his eyes. 

"And as I was saying, Chief, I think I can show you far better quality programming right here than you'll ever see on TV !" With that Jim took possession of his Guide's lips and the rest of the conversation for the evening... 

Rosemary  


* * *

Tidbit #3 

Jim found it difficult to resist a moist Blair, particularly a moist Blair with one drop of water clinging to his bottom lip...a distant relative of the beads of water still clinging to wet curls, defying the law of gravity. And as Blair hovered over the kitchen table, typing furiously into his laptop, that drop of water teased Jim. He approached Blair silently from behind and then wrapped his arms around the younger man's chest and kissed the back of his neck. 

"Jiiimmmm!" 

"Bed, Chief," Jim nibbled Blair's ear. He smiled against the lobe when he felt a shiver move through his guide's body. Still smiling, he fondled his guide's towel-clad ass. "I want a proper welcome home." 

"I welcomed you home in the shower, Jim." 

Jim chuckled, "You said Hi in the shower, Babe. I'm still waiting to hear Hello." 

"In a minute, Jim...'Kay? I'm almost finished. I just have to..ohhhh," Jim had moved from licking Blair's ear to licking beads of water from his neck. 

"Have to what, Chief? And what's gotten you so turned on, besides me?" 

"Well, I was thinking about the Watchman list earlier before you joined me in the shower...Ahhh...and I decided to thank a few people who asked some clever questions about Jake and Joe during that whole 'wacky Irma, foot fetish stories' thing. They really helped ease a bit of the tension. And quite a few people actually responded and got involved." 

"Yeah...you mentioned something about that when you picked me up from the airport." Jim tilted Blair's head back and gave him a long, deep kiss. "Couldn't this wait until morning?" His hands caressed Blair's stomach and chest. 

"Well, yeah but I...Jiim, I can't think when you do that," Blair moaned, as determined fingers pinched and pulled at his nipples. 

"Tell me about the questions," Jim whispered against Blair's neck. He removed his guide's towel and gently stroked his cock from behind. Then he turned the younger man around and kneeled down in front of him. 

"Well, uhmm...Bast started it off by asking us if Jake and Joe went bareback or used condoms. Theenn..ahhhh..ohhh, yeah, Jim...right there! Th-then Sorka asked us if we thought that Jake was an introvert. And then Allison asked a whole series of questions, man, from 'do they like to cuddle?' to 'who do you think has the cutest butt?' And I can tell you," Blair laughed, "that _lots_ of listsibs volunteered to prove that one!" 

"Go on, Chief. I'm listening." Jim blew warm, moist air against the head of Blair's cock, fascinated with a bead of pre-cum that dangled from the tip as the younger man's hips swayed to and fro. 

"Ravenwing mentioned an awful Hawaiian shirt and then Jane started this whole virtual 'Luau' thing where the guys were in grass skirts, and Joe was chased by a randy, 2 ton bull seal named Fred, and...JIIIMMMMM!!...OHHHH!!" 

"Let me thank them for you, Chief. Let's see... _lick_...this one's for Bast, _slurp_...this one's for Sorka, _nibble_...this one's for Allison, _suck_...this one's for Tex, _tongue_...this one's for Jane, _swallow_...(a sated pause)...and this one's for you, my love." 

Pamela  


* * *

Tidbit #4 

Jim was curled around his mate in their bed after a long day of catching criminals and having to put up with bureaucrats and was achingly tired, but being that tired still didn't stop him from waking up with a start when he heard Blair moaning in his sleep. 

"noo...Noo...Stop." 

"Chief...Blair...Wake up," 

Jim carefully unwrapped himself from Blair and scooted over to the side some more, when Blair started thrashing around in the bed. 

"Noo...don't want to be here," Blair was still moaning. 

Jim reached out to shake Blair, when all of a sudden Blair yelled. "NO... Get away from me!" 

At the same time Blair pushed as hard as humanly possible against his nightmare resulting in the fact that he pushed Jim, who was toward the edge of the bed anyway onto the floor. 

_SMACK_ was the sound of Jim hitting the hardwood floor, butt first. 

"Son OF A Bitch.." 

"Jiiim.." Blair said groggily, "Where are you..What are you doing on the floor?" 

"Because this is where you pushed me, Chief," Jim said in a hard voice. 

"Wha..?" 

"You were having some kind of nightmare and you pushed me off the bed, because of it." Jim said standing up and starting to get back into bed. 

"Oh, man, I'm so sorry, I was having _the_ worst nightmare," said Blair as he pulled Jim to him with a hug. 

"Yeah I kind of figured that out when I got pushed off the bed, so what was it about anyway?" asked Jim as he pulled Blair close to him. 

"Well I was having this nightmare that I died and went to hell, which might not have been so bad considering I don't believe in hell anyway, but when I got there I woke up to find myself next to Beanie Weanie, the exec that canceled our favorite show the Watchman and Kank Kelps the man who keeps that awful website up. They told me that I was going to have to watch every episode of the Watchman again, which won't have been too bad, but they wanted me to watch every episode to point out which parts could be considered slashy or even smarmy, so they could take those parts out and replace them with more BOTW moments. So as they started toward me to drag me toward this hellish life, I pushed them away as hard as I could, then I heard you yell and then I woke up to find you on the floor." 

"Jeez, Chief, you don't do nightmares half way do you," said Jim as he rubbed his hand up and down Blair's back. 

"Nope, I'm just sorry that it caused me to hurt you," Blair murmured as he started to rub his hand against Jim's rear as if to take away any soreness that may have resulted in the fall. 

Jim wiggled closer to Blair as he said, "Well it looks as if you are starting to make it up to me just fine, Chief." 

"Oh, I'll do more than this to make up for it," Blair whispered as he bent to kiss Jim's lips. "Much more." 

The End 

Hertasi  


* * *

Tidbit #5 

ObSenad: 

"Hey, Chief, what's this message supposed to mean?" 

Blair looked up at Jim who was playing around on his laptop. "Huh? Lemme see." He peered over Jim's shoulder. "Oh, man! Do _not_ hit 'download'! Jim, how many times have I told you not to download suspicious stuff?" 

"But this is from Simon," Jim protested. 

"That's just it. It's not from Simon. He'd explain what the file was that he'd sent, right?" Blair pushed his hair back from his face and assumed lecture mode. "See, some of these viruses masquerade as a legitimate message sent by someone you know. You download and BANG!-" he slammed his hands together "-there goes your hard drive." 

Jim frowned. "So, Simon's computer is infected? Oh, he's not gonna like that." 

Blair sighed. "Yeah, but at least he can't blame me this time." His eyes list up. "Hey, Jim....why don't you call and warn him and meet me upstairs. I've got a hard drive that's guaranteed virus-free." 

THE END 

Tex  


* * *

Tidbit #6 

ObSenad: 

"God dammit, Sandburg, I said no." 

"Jim, that's not good enough. What happened this afternoon, could happen again. We need to find out why and then maybe keep it from occurring again." 

"And I said no. N ~ O, no. I'm sick and tired of being your guinea pig, your god damned lab rat, the fucking monster to your Frankenstein." 

The words hit Sandburg hard. Harder than words should, let alone words from Jim. He should be used to it by now. But he instinctively knew this was different. And he felt his own anger rise, words boiling to the surface, words he'd bit off more times than he could remember. 

"You're tired? _YOU'RE_ tired? Let me tell you who's tired. I'm tired. Tired of you making fun of what I try to do. Tired of the jokes. Tired of your impatience. Tired of your hate of this gift. Tired of your fears. You think I _like_ this? The constant prodding? The constant nagging? I didn't create you, Jim. I'm not responsible. I'm just the idiot that stayed. But I can remedy that. Real fast." 

"Who's stopping you?" 

"You." 

"Not likely, Sandburg. You want to leave, leave. It only took me a couple of hours last time, to pack up your stuff. Working together, it'll fly by." 

Jim's tone was cold. Hard. 

"Don't need to. Never unpacked. But you know what I wish?" Blair didn't let Jim answer, "I wish you knew me as well as I know you. I wish you trusted as I trust, and most of all, I wish you loved as I love. I know what happened this afternoon. I know what you're feeling. And again, you're scared. You almost lost it, the zone almost allowing you to hurt someone. And you're scared." 

Blair walked over to the balcony, his steps slow, almost painful, as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. Jim could be heavy. 

"Is there ever a time to give up? To really walk away? How do I know when the words you say are just words of fear, versus words carrying the real kernel of truth? When do I know when to draw the line? Do I ever draw it? And when...", his words slowed, his voice dropping almost to a whisper, emotion coloring their impact, "do I know if I'm staying because you really _need_ me, or if I'm staying because I'm selfish? Because I can't bear to be away from you? And when do I admit defeat? That loving you is killing me. Does anyone know the answers?" 

Sandburg turned, not looking at Jim and made his way to his room. 

"I guess I do know the answers. I'm going. You can have your life back. With or without your senses. Your choice, it's always _been_ your choice. You _know_ that. Maybe it was the extra baggage that came with it, maybe that's what you don't want. So, consider the baggage history. Gone. Blair Sandburg, on the road again. And peace will once again reign for Jim Ellison." 

"no." 

Sandburg went into his room, unhearing, uncaring. 

"NO." 

The sounds of drawers opening, clothes hitting the bed, footsteps moving around. Blair wasn't listening. 

"please," came the agonized whisper, "please." 

The footsteps stopped. He was listening. 

"i can't make it without you", the words were rushing out now, the damn broken, or maybe freed by Sandburg's admission. 

"i love you. almost killed got you killed today, _again_ almost got you killed. please. you're not baggage. you're.....the perk." 

The door opened and Blair stood there, wide-eyed, open mouthed. His expression completely baffled. 

"Perk?" 

"you know, the upgrade, the champagne, first class travel. the perks. that's you. my perk", his voice gathered in strength, as his words gave his feelings an out, "I gave up so much, but I got you. Fair trade. I got the better deal." 

"So, like, you love me? Like I love you?" 

"If you mean you love me like, you'd like to go upstairs and get really acquainted? Yeah, I love you like that. And I trust you. And I need lots of time to get to know you, like you know me. And I really need to just.......~hold ~ you. Okay?" 

Blair never moved so fast in his life. Never. 

finis 

allison 


End file.
